


Canvas

by nakadoo



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, M/M, its not rly ryukita just very heavily implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:05:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakadoo/pseuds/nakadoo
Summary: Yusuke must express his art and it involves Ryuji.





	Canvas

“Are you free this Sunday?” Yusuke had asked one evening once the team was dismissed after another long afternoon in Mementos. He pulled his bag over his shoulder and raised a questioning eyebrow at his friend.

“Me?” Ryuji asked, his attention locked on their leader as he left. He waved at him wordlessly, before turning to Yusuke to tilt his head at him in question. “Ya, I’m free. What’s up?”

He had disliked Ryuji the first time they met. How couldn't he when all Ryuji did was scowl and shout and complain? Though Yusuke understood now that it was righteous fury on his behalf even if he was a snippy stranger at the time. Ryuji was just a sincere person who wore his golden bleeding heart on his sleeve for the world to see, though he was still often misunderstood. Or more apt to say people still refused to see him as more than the rumored ruffian of Shujin.

He was all bite and careless talk, but Yusuke had grown fond of him just as he had grown fond of everyone in their peculiar group. They each filled him with feelings he did not know he could possess for other people and for that he was grateful, he hasn't been so inspired in a long, long while.

“If I could borrow you for a day, I’d like for you to help me with an art piece of mine.” He smiled, polite and expectant and pleased. He knew his friends by now, and he knew they were always willing to help if they could, in anyway that they could, even if they thought his methods of art were weird.

Ryuji scratched the back of his head, his face scrunching up to a confused scowl. “You sure you want me?” he asked. “M’not really the artsy type.”

“Yes, I want you.” Yusuke confirmed, without a hint of shame or doubt in his voice.

Ryuji, oblivious to any possible hidden meaning, considered it but his thought process didn't even last for a full second. “Sure,” he answered instantly.

Heart of gold and fiercely loyal to those he deemed worthy—no, that wasn’t quite right. He was loyal to those he trusted, to those he cared for, and to be on the receiving end of his loyalty despite their little disputes and squabbles was something Yusuke was thankful for. At times when he thought about it too much, he felt hot around the neck, giddy, though he wasn't sure why.

“Wonderful,” he answered back in muted happiness, and though his smile was mild it spoke volumes of his gratitude. “I’ll meet you at the station at 2.”

“Aight dude,” Ryuji said with a meek nod and a small smile. With that he waved without a word, parting ways with the artist before disappearing into the Shibuya night crowd in almost an instant.

Still though, Yusuke’s eyes followed him, tried to follow him, and even when he was already out of sight Yusuke still tried to catch one more glimpse of blond. It was honestly a waste of precious time considering he was seeing Ryuji again anyway but he couldn't help it. He didn't regret it even as he found himself uncomfortably squished between the the train’s door and a mass of sweaty, weary people. As an elbow jabbed rather painfully against his rib cage, he wondered what medium to use in his session with Ryuji in the days to come.

He considered oil paints, but decided that he wanted to have a few proper meals first before subjecting himself to starvation. He supposed he could settle with acrylics, easy to work with, very forgiving, and significantly cheaper than oil paints. He dreaded for the quality of the piece not meeting with his artistic standards but he consoled himself with the reminder that this was still an experiment for him; he’d never tried it before, never had the chance to, and it would be better to fail with cheap materials than to waste expensive ones. And he’d learned, from all his time with his friends, that there was gain in failure despite how bleak it could appear at first glance.

Renewed vigor and excitement rushed through him after his mental peptalk. He reminded himself to borrow a dSLR camera from one of his dorm mates as soon as he got back.

That Sunday Ryuji was wearing what he usually did: thoughtless and comfortable. A familiar black print shirt and that purple hoodie that made him seem bigger than he actually was. Yusuke thought the black pants were a blessing, though, flattering Ryuji’s already nice legs. _“Legs for days,”_ Akira had told him once and though he didn't understand the first time around he finally did now. Legs for days indeed, and it took Yusuke a considerably large amount of self control to pull his gaze up to Ryuji’s mildly irritated frown.

“Effin’ hate the god damned trains,” he muttered softly with an unhappy shake of his head.

“I apologize to have put you through that,” Yusuke started and before Ryuji could dismiss his apology he kept talking. “But this is important to me.”

“I get it, kinda” Ryuji started and for a moment Yusuke was thinking he was just saying that to appease him but ryuji always seemed to surprise him when he least expected it. “Y’know, passion and stuff. Mines runnin’ and yers is art. Different shit but kinda the same drive I guess?”

Yusuke let out a low chuckle, an amused and impressed smile spreading on his face. “I see that time with Akira has made you more introspective.”

“Huuh?!” his eyes were blown wide with bewilderment and indignation. “Hey I’m plenty introspective on my own!”

Yusuke gave him a flat look, a single eyebrow raised.

Ryuji grunted and scratched the back of his neck where the baby hairs were still growing. It was a habit he did when he was embarrassed and unwilling to admit defeat, though he never failed to correct himself if he knew he was wrong. “I guess havin’ Akira around got me used to talkin’ about that kinda shit. Being with him made me have to put it into words. Before he came along I just… yknow, kept it all to myself.”

Yusuke understood this too. He’d always been the quiet kind, mostly kept to himself because people thought he was odd even if they admired his skill. They ostracized him, put him on a pedestal because of Madarame’s tutelage, and thought him weird when he tried to tell them honestly how he felt about anything.

But with Akira, with _them_ , he could be completely open without judgement. They weren't afraid to contradict him either and that only served to broaden his horizons when almost everyone kept him tied back. With them he found his mouth dry quite often because he never really had the opportunities to talk at length about the things he was passionate about and he wasn’t used to it. A swell of emotion filled his heart and pumped through his veins like the blood keeping him alive. He felt loved and understood when he was with them, any of them, and that was his biggest saving grace after learning his sensei was a fraud.

All those feelings and thoughts happened in an instant and a bright genuine smile was on his face. He wanted to tell Ryuji how thankful he was for all of them in detail but he settled with a simple “me too.”

Ryuji returned his smile with sunshine.

“Then let us be off!” though he was being his usual self, the air around them was still that of mutual gratitude, and it was easy to keep the happy atmosphere rolling.

Yusuke led Ryuji to his dorm and, in a rare show of irritation, sent a glare at whoever even looked at Ryuji funny. His friend seemed oblivious to this, more enraptured by the differences between Kosei and Shujin to notice, but it was to his benefit. He didn't think he could properly explain why he was giving the stink eye to many of his school mates.

The moment he unlocked the door to his room, Ryuji was already pushing passed him excitedly. “Whoaa,” he exclaimed, carelessly tossing his shoes off to the side. He opened his mouth again to ask something, but paused to remind himself to be polite. “You got a roommate I should be nice to or somethin?”

Yusuke shook his head no, hanging his keys on a hook to the side of the small entrance hall. “It's just us,” he assured him. “No need to censor yourself.”

“Nice,” he grinned and unceremoniously dashed and jumped onto the bed with a loud _plomf._

Yusuke rolled his eyes. “I did not ask you to come here to sleep on my bed.”

Ryuji stayed unresponsive for a few long seconds, then took a deep breath with his face pressed against the pillow.

Yusuke entertained the possibility that Ryuji was breathing in his scent, but squashed the thought before it could bloom into more.

“Right,” Ryuji finally responded and sat up. “What’dya need me to do?”

Yusuke considered how he should go about his request. Best to be blunt, as he usually was. “Please take your shirt off.”

“Huuuh?!” Ryuji yelped, again his eyes wide in shock. He pulled the flaps of his hoodie together, zipping it all the way up and even pulled his hood on. “Bro, what. No way am I gettin’ nude for you!”

 _That’s a shame_ Yusuke thought absentmindedly. “I'm not asking you to go nude, only your shirt.”

Ryuji pursed his lips in thought, but it looked more like a sad pout. Yusuke’s eager and awaiting smile was something he found he couldn't say no to. “Uuuuugh,” he whined and stripped himself of his hoodie. He tried to toss it at the chair by Yusuke’s study desk but he missed, so it landed on the floor sadly. He went for his shirt next, though he hesitated. “Just my shirt right? No funny business?”

Yusuke shook his head, eyes alight in delight. He plucked Ryuji’s hoodie from the floor and draped it over the chair it missed. “Only art.”

“Uuuurgghhh,” he complained again. A beat of silence, before he ripped his shirt off like it was a band-aid. Better get over it quick instead of stalling to much.

He’d seen Ryuji’s naked body before when they had all gone to the onsen together but he was always too preoccupied with the warm pleasant feeling of the therapeutic waters. Seeing his naked torso now though, in a different setting, in the privacy of his home, Yusuke could appreciate his physique more intimately. He was lean, lean, and lean. Wide shoulders and a narrow waist, and skin taut over his stomach. Ryuji was a runner but he was still sculpted with mildly-there abdominal muscles. There were scars from their battles too, small and faded and pale because their healing spells couldn’t completely get rid of everything.

“So do I gotta like, pose or some shit?” Ryuji asked, breaking Yusuke out of his reverie. He dangled his legs off the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched more in thought than embarrassment. He raised his arms, flexing them like he was a bodybuilder. That embarrassed him though, and he put his hands down quickly as a light blush spread on his cheeks. “Dude don't leave me hangin’. This is embarrassing.”

“Turn around,” Yusuke instructed. He didn't catch the mildly worried look on Ryuji’s face, his attention drawn to his materials sitting at his desk. He sorted through the colors as he spoke, trying to pick the best color palette. Warm colors, he decided. Ryuji made him feel warm, smiled like he was a second sun, and had the ferocity and passion of wildfire. “You are my canvas today,” he said. He picked two cool colors for accent as an afterthought.

“What?”

He picked up a paint brush and pointed it at Ryuji as he spun around, his paints cradled in his arms like a baby. “I won't be painting you today,” he explained as he approached. “I will be _painting you_.”

“Dude you said the exact same thing, that doesn't make any sense!” he rebutted.

His shock was like a pinprick, gone as soon as it had came. “Ah, apologies. What I mean to say is I will be painting on you instead of a canvas.”

“Oh.” As he’d said before, he really wasn’t an artsy person. He didn’t understand aesthetics and composition and all the other shit Yusuke’s tried to explain to all of them before. So maybe this was just another one of the things that he didn’t understand because he wasn’t an artist himself. Maybe this was normal? Ryuji wasn’t sure but Yusuke looked earnest and he’d already agreed to help him out. With a resigned sigh, he turned his back to Yusuke. Though he had accepted his fate as a human canvas, that still didn’t help ease his nerves. 

Yusuke got to work, squeezing his acrylic paint onto his palette. He dabbed his brush into the paint, lifting it up to brush against Ryuji’s spine before pausing. Though initially he had intended to paint a sunset on his friend’s back, he immediately changed his mind. Though his initial stroke was a mistake, he wasn’t deterred— He was inspired now, more so than before, and began to wipe away the first stroke with his fingers. “Hold on,” he murmured.

“Wha?” Ryuji asked, looking over his shoulder to see Yusuke changing his color palette. It was a lot more monochromatic now (Ryuji is proud of himself for remembering the term) and honestly it looked a little less friendly. “D’ya think of something?”

Yusuke gave a stiff nod, too encompassed with his desire to paint to do anything more so.

Ryuji felt a little more relaxed now that Yusuke had taken a more serious air. He was focused and intent and it was a little easier for Ryuji to pretend that it wasn’t awkward. He’d get accustomed to it, he was sure, because he got accustomed to a lot of the weird shit that Yusuke put him through.

He didn’t get a warning this time as he felt the paint hit his skin. It was cold and he couldn’t stop the shiver that he felt. He chanced a glance at his friend and saw that he was beyond conversation now that he’d already started. Which was fine and dandy since Ryuji didn’t really have a conversation topic to bring up anyway. He couldn’t help but arch his back and tense his shoulders as Yusuke dragged his brush down his spine, a surprised soft gasp escaping him.

Yusuke paused again and when Ryuji looked over his shoulder to ask what was wrong he stopped. The artist had a look on his face, still focused but contemplative. He was looking at the stroke he’d made, a single black line trailing down Ryuji’s spine, and frowned. “I did not anticipate this,” he muttered.

“Uh, what didn’t you anticipate?”

“Movement,” he answered. He placed his palm on Ryuji’s back, his thumb rubbing at the peak of the shoulder blade. The skin was pliant under his touch, and each move Ryuji made, not matter how miniscule, caused his muscles to shift underneath the skin. A moving canvas, every single moment, with every single breath. Somehow that excited Yusuke, like a kid discovering all the different things their toy was capable of doing. “However, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. I just ask of you to keep still.”

“I mean, I’ll try,” Ryuji muttered back at him. It was just the second stroke, and the feeling of paint against his skin was still foreign and new and weird but not in a necessarily uncomfortable way. He calmed himself, took a deep breath, and let his posture relax. If he was going to stay still for an extended period of time, he might as well be comfortable. “Alright, I’m set to go.”

“Good,” Yusuke muttered then continued.

For the most part, the art session went unhinged. Ryuji sat as still as possible, like he had promised, as he scrolled through the Phansite on his phone. He took note of the requests that seemed important, and read up on the threads there to update himself with information that might be useful. The only real trouble came when Yusuke was finally painting the skin on his side where the bones of his ribcage were sticking out. He lurched forward, like he’d had the air punched out of him, and gasped in a breath.

“Did that hurt?” Yusuke asked, the distant look in his eye disappearing to be replaced by concern.

“Nah,” Ryuji assured him, his face twitching slightly. “I guess I’m just a little ticklish.”

“Hmm,” Yusuke hummed thoughtfully, drawing back his hand to admire his work so far. Incomplete and far from perfect if he were to be honest, but he was certainly getting the hang of it. “I wouldn’t have known. Somehow, it doesn’t fit your personality.”

“Whaddaya mean?” Ryuji asked, turning his body a little bit to face his friend. When Yusuke didn’t protest his movement, he turned his body all the way around so that they were facing each other. He was feeling a little stiff from staying still for so long, so it was nice to get even just a little movement going on.

Deciding that it was a good moment for a break, Yusuke leaned back and stretched his arms above his head before slouching a little bit in his seat. He let a teasing little smirk dance on his lips as he spoke “for such a vulgar young man to be ticklish is something I wouldn’t have thought of.”

“Why does everyone think I’m vulgar?!” Ryuji exclaimed with an exasperated sigh. He raised his hand the moment Yusuke gave him a look. “Don’t answer that, smart-ass.”

Yusuke let out a small chuckle and his lips twitched into a smile. “It’s endearing, don’t worry.” He stood up then and stretched again, walking over to the small section of his dorm room that served as his kitchen. There was a small stove, a small fridge, a small cupboard, a small everything. The fact that Yusuke was relatively tall did more to emphasize its size. “Would you like some tea?”

“Sure.” Perking up, Ryuji stood up. He wasn’t sure if he should move too much since it might ruin the drying paint on his back so he refrained from making too many unnecessary movements. He joined Yusuke at the kitchen, hovering behind his back while the artist pulled out a fancily decorated tin can of tea leaves. He pulled himself up to sit at the counter and even though Yusuke gave him an irritated look he stayed there.

“So uh,” Ryuji started, watching as Yusuke went to the stove and turned the switch before placing a kettle of water on. “Why me?”

“Hmm?”

“Of all people,” Ryuji asked as he swung his dangling legs “Why’d ya pick me to paint on?”

“Oh,” he seemed rather pleased with the question. He approached Ryuji and leaned against the counter next to his legs. “You have broad shoulders,” he explained easily. “And I don’t think that any of the girls would have approved of this. Haru, maybe, but I opted for you instead.”

“Why not Akira? You did art stuff with him before yeah?”

“Exactly because of that. I’ve already done a piece with him, so I thought it would be a good idea to have variety in my work.”

Ryuji nodded. It made some sort of sense to him. “And you didn’t choose Akechi because..?”

Yusuke’s little smile fell flat in an instant, and he felt more than a little displeased at the question this time.

Ryuji snorted loudly.

“He… I am not particularly on good terms with him,” he said slowly as if he were choosing his words carefully. Even though he knew that Ryuji wouldn’t mind it if he started talking badly of the detective he decided to show a bit of civility. “Art is an expression of emotion, and if he were to be my muse I wouldn’t be able to depict what I want. I want to create a piece similar to Sayuri, something that will elicit feelings of warmth, safety.”

Ryuji had a pensive look on his face as he ran Yusuke’s words through his brain a couple more times than necessary. Did this mean that he felt safe around him? He was flattered more than he’d like to admit but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “So you’re tellin’ me that if you were painting on Akechi it would have been shitty?”

“Not necessarily, but it would be a more negative piece, maybe more on the abstract side” he admitted. “It won't be a bad idea to try, but that’s not what I want right now.” He turned to Ryuji then and somehow his expression looked different, completely serious and sincere. He seemed too close. “I want you.”

“I—”

Ryuji jumped, a hand going over his heart as the kettle whistled loudly.

Yusuke pulled away and went back to the stove to prepare the tea.

What the hell was that? Was Yusuke even aware of the connotations of things he said? Probably not, Ryuji convinced himself. The artist was airheaded and dense and a little socially awkward, so he probably just said whatever came to mind without thinking of the repercussions. Still he could feel the thump of his heart in his chest and willed it to slow down, back to its normal pace, and inhaled deeply before letting out a loud exhale through his nose.

Yusuke handed him his cup of tea and he settled back beside him, letting his own tea sit on the counter to chill down a little bit. Without so much of a warning his hand went to Ryuji’s shoulder, still warm from holding the cup of tea, and turned him bodily but gently. His fingers experimentally touched at the edges of the paint, satisfied to feel that it was already dry. “Things are going very well,” he informed Ryuji.

Ryuji attempted to look at his own back in vain, twisting his torso to look over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Later,” Yusuke tutted, pushing at Ryuji’s shoulders so that the blond was facing him again. “After your tea we shall continue.”

Ryuji sneered and frowned at his tea like it was at fault. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun,” Yusuke argued flatly, just because he wanted to contradict Ryuji. He took a sip of his own tea slowly, though he was getting rather impatient. The break was more a courtesy for Ryuji’s sake; Yusuke knows what it’s like to pour hours and hours of effort on a single art piece without break. “Perhaps...” he mused out loud to distract himself from his urge to grab Ryuji and push him down so they could continue now. “Would you rather lay on the bed? I apologize again but this will take a great length of time and it would be most beneficial for us both if you were comfortable while I work.”

“Yeah that’s cool,” Ryuji said, took a sip, and winced when he burned his own tongue. “It won't matter to you if I fall asleep right?”

Yusuke shook his head. “Please, make yourself at home.”

After the tea Ryuji settled himself on Yusuke’s bed, arms folded and tucked underneath his chin. He kicked his legs absentmindedly as he watched and listened to Yusuke clean up a bit at the kitchen before the artists was standing before him with his paints in hand. His whole body jerked when the bed dipped, Yusuke’s knee planted by his hip, and then the other on his other side. Yusuke was straddling him now, sitting comfortably on the back of Ryuji’s thighs. “Whoa, wait, wha—”

“Is this bad?” Yusuke asked, aware of Ryuji’s barely controlled panic.

Ryuji willed himself to calm down. “No, sorry. This is fine. I just— You— I was surprised, that’s all,” he shook his head. How else was Yusuke supposed to continue painting? It probably would have been weird if the orientation of his panting was suddenly different. “Warn a guy next time, geez…”

“I’m glad,” Yusuke murmured, and finally dipped his brush back into the paint and then went to spread it on his human canvas.

“Hmm? Why’s that?” Ryuji asked, letting his eyes close. Now that they were both settled, it was actually kind of comfortable. Yusuke wasn’t as heavy as he thought, and he was more a comfortable weight rather an annoyance.

“Next time,” Yusuke echoed as he painted. “That means you’re willing to do this for me again next time.”

“Ugh, why are you so embarrassing?” Ryuji asked with a frown, though he did feel his skin flush at the comment.

“If you keep blushing,” Yusuke scolded him teasingly “the color of your skin will clash with the palette I’ve chosen.”

“Aw, dude!” Ryuji wiggled underneath him as a warning. “Just shut up and paint.”

Yusuke smiled, wide and sincere. “My pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> mmmmaaaaAAAaaaAAAaAaAN 
> 
> i originally planned this to end in sexy times. this was supposed to be longer. but being me i wrote it fluffy and couldn't find a way to turn it around but whatever this is good i love and appreciate their friendship so this is fine... tho you can see how i wrapped it up too quick at the end, that displeases me, but theres not more that i can write. sorry about that :')
> 
> @nimini_ninoni lmao im sorry i couldnt stick to my plan HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. speaking of nimini_ninoni, Ryuji mentions that Yusuke's done an art thing with Akira before and the art thing he did with Akira before was [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11292963).
> 
> smol break from bbss


End file.
